Tell No Man Anything, For No Man

After The Sunset On The Prairie, There Are Only The Stars

I Never Made A Mistake In Grammar But One In My Life And As Soon As I Done It I Seen It.

Freedom Is Baffling: Men Having It Often Know Not They Have It Till It Is Gone And They No Longer Have It.

Poetry Is A Phantom Script Telling How Rainbows Are Made And Why They Go Away.

Poetry Is A Fossil Rock-print Of A Fin And A Wing, With An Illegible Oath Between.